^^<^ rM!^: ^^<i^ • 








■^^<^ 











Kortt? Jfflntoera 



Gather iJui ywrth flowers to complete the south. 



A FEW POEMS 



BY 



Wendell Phillips Stafford 



St, Johnsbury, Vt. 
$rrss of 3tlff (Hahiiatxmn (5.am]^ai\^ 

1902 



THE LIBRAftY 6? 

CON6R€SS, 
T)*^ Comtie Rbohvbb' 

DEC. k^ 190? 

DLA8CI ftxXXfli Na 

u r (o i^ ! 
oorv B. 



Copyright. 1902 
Wendell P. Stafford 






Note 

These poems were written, for the 
most part, many years ago, and are 
certainly old enough to appear in public, 
if they have not already. They have 
been gathered into a book in order that 
they might not be lost to the few that 
naturally care for them ; not because 
the writer has become suddenly 
impressed with a sense of their 
importance. 



(HmxtmtB 



LEGEND AND ART 

EuRYLOCHUs Transformed .... 15 

The Venus of Melos ...... 21 

The Belvedere Apollo 23 

The Sistine Madonna 25 

The Return to Nature ..... 26 

TRIBUTES 

Wendell Phillips 31 

Epigram ........ 35 

On a Portrait of Henry W. Paine ... 36 

The Poet's Call 37 

A Branch of Pine 40 

William Lloyd Garrison .... 42 

7 



CONTENTS 

STUDIES 

Athens and Sparta ...... 47 

CvtSAR AND Napoleon ...... 49 

Contrasts in Court . . . . . . 51 

Vim Habuit Demosthenes .... 52 

Paolo and Francesca ..... 53 

Beside the Mark ...... 54 

PASTIME 

My Inheritance ...... 59 

A Petition for Guardian ..... 60 

A More Particular Description ... 64 

A Stroller's Confession ..... 68 

The Point of View 69 

Motto for an Athletic Club .... 70 

MOODS 

My Lady of Dreams ..... 75 

An Honest Score ...... 77 



CONTENTS 

On Quitting a Room 79 

Epitaph . . . . . . . . 80 

Dirge ......... 82 

COUNTRY 

The Republic . . .... 87 

FIRESIDE 

Naming the Baby ...... 97 

Lullaby 99 

Le Garcon Qui Rit 101 

Robert Sinclair Stafford .... 103 

CCELUM NON AnIMUM MuTANT .... 105 

Gray-wing ........ 106 

DEVOTION 

Gethsemane . . . . . . .111 

Easter 113 

My Defense . . . . . . .114 

Behold the Day 115 

9 



CONTENTS 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



Love Imperious ...... 

Love Lyrical : 

"Somewhere she waits my coming" 

"Winter still his load is bearing" 

" Oh blessed bough" . . . . , 

" What were you doing, my flower" 

" Tis because you're sweet, 1 love you" 

" Bobolink, bobolink, teach me the tune" 

" If my Love knew how I love her" 

" Back again ! back again ! Look I have come 

"Do I love you. little Lady?" 

" Puritan or Cavalier" .... 

" If God had made me a painter" 

" 1 do not sing because the spring" . 

" Lo, I am loved! " 

"Dearer, Lady, and diviner" 

" Old sweethearts are the sweetest" 

" Love's song should be as transient as his tear' 

Love Confident ...... 

Love Prophetic ...... 

Love Eternal ...... 



119 

120 
122 

124 
125 
126 
127 
128 
129 
130 
131 
133 
135 
136 
137 
139 
140 

141 
142 
143 



10 



S^grnb nnh Art 



[According to Homer, Ulysses, coming to the island of Circe, 
divided his band : one-half remained at the ship, the 
other, led by Eurylochus, entered the palace of Circe, 
where all, save their leader, partaking of the feast, were 
transformed to swine. In the following modification of 
the legend, Eurylochus himself is supposed to have 
undergone the transformation, and to have spoken these 
words before and in the course of it.] 

JQIVINE or human, by whatever name 

^^ Mortals or gods have named thee, I salute, — 

With reverence I salute thee, I alone. 

They that be with me stay without the porch, — 

Half of their number ; but the other half 

Are sitting with Ulysses at the oars. 

For, following still that much-enduring man, 

By many oarless waters we have come. 



15 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Dim coasts, and islands with far-shadowing peaks, 
And nioving floods from the dark wilderness, 
And one Infernal gulf in thundering seas. 
And we have met with monsters, men like beasts; 
Centaurs, that, issuing from the caverned hills, 
Eyed us unmovingly; Lotophagi; 
And Cyclops who devoured us day by day. 
And some have met us on the brink with blows. 
And some with smiles, and after that betrayed. 
Not knowing how Zeus is the stranger's friend. 
And some have paid us honors like the gods, 
Wine, and the sacrifice, and song of bards, 
And gifts at parting. For this cause I stand 
Alone to learn what welcome waits us here. 

{Circe having answered and offered him the cup, he proceeds.) 

Thy words were gracious, had thy looks not made 
All words superfluous. But keep thy cup 1 
It were not fitting that my lips should wear 
The wine-stain, goddess, while Ulysses' ears 



16 



LEGEND AND ART 

Thirst for these tidings. Give me leave ! . . . 

No more ; 

I yield. And, first of all, I spill to thee 
The bright libation, never one so bright 
Since that old morn when, in the sacred bowl 
At Aulis, peering, I beheld a face 
New-bearded and with wide, forth-looking eyes. 
While near at hand the smitten oxen moaned, 
Greece waited, breathless, for the oracle, 
Far off the seamen called, and on my cheek 
I felt the breezes, favoring for Troy. 

{He drinks.) 

Bacchus ! What vine hath bled into thy cup ? 
I see the things that have been and shall be, — 
The gods, the earth-born race, the brood of Hell. 
Ah me ! the pain ! the quest without an end 1 
For, doubtless, one in after-time will say : 
Eurylochus came once to Circe's house, 
Seeking the day of his return from Troy. 



17 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Then all the rest watched through the stormy night, 
But these reclined at the ambrosial feast. 
He told her all the travail they had borne: 
She gave him of the cup that loosens care. 
So one will speak, weaving a winter's tale. 
Thou wilt be gladdening others with thy smiles, 
But I shall lie in earth in alien land. 

Sweet are the lips of music, ever sweet, — 

Sweeter to ears weary of wind and wave. 

Soft hands ! white arms! Why should v/e rise at all? 

The gods rise not ; prone at perpetual feasts, 

On sloping elbows they survey the world. 

Why do we v/ork, knowing no work remains? 

Nothing abides ; our very sorrows fade, 

Lest life should be made noble by despair. 

No new fire-stealer will high Zeus endure. 

Beak-tortured, on the lone Caucasian crag, 

To mock him with the never-changing eye. 

Oh failing heart! how all dimensions, all, 



18 



LEGEND AND ART 

Have shrivelled to the measure of thy hope ! 

This life, which once seemed larger than all worlds, 

Now looks less huge than the marsh-gendered fly's, 

Whose Lethean past and infinite to come 

Are rounded in one little, sunny hour. 

The gods are blessed, knowing they endure ; 

The beasts are blest, not knowing but they last ; 

But man is cursed, knowing that he dies, — 

Unhappy beast, striving to be a god! 

Oh for the life dreamed under drowsy boughs 

By old Silenus and his careless crew ! 

With happy satyrs clamoring his approach 

To happier fauns, who, hearing, off will flee 

To prop the tipsy god, what time he nods 

Upon his dripping, purple-stained car, 

Half holding, in one lazy-dropping hand, 

The leash of long-stemmed flowers wherewith he guides, 

At slumber-footed pace, the flexile, sleek, 

Indolent leopards, happiest of all ! 

19 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Nearer the kind earth better, nearest best ! 
To snuff the savory steam of upturned soil ; 
To sally with the low-browed drove at dawn, 
Gurgling or jubilantly trumpeting, 
To where the sweet night-fallen acorns hide 
Under the lush, cool grasses, drenched with dew ! 
I know the down-faced posture ; now I feel 
The low, four-footed firmness. Let me go! 
The glaring lights are lost in grateful gloom ! 
And now I scent the rain-washed herbage ; now 
The welcome shine of slumberous pools appears— 
Ah! . . . 



20 



0iy^ TffmuB nf il^lna 

He ordered that the young women should go naked in 
the processions. — Lycurgus, Plutarch's Lives. 

Fair creatures! whose young children's children bred 
Thermopylae its heroes — not yet dead 
But in old marbles ever beautiful. 

— Endymion, Keats. 

/TThOUGHTS of those deathless forms thou dost 

^^ awake, 

That unashamed in beauty strode along 

Through the high Spartan street, a naked throng, 

Deep-wombed, with bosoms fit whereon to take 

The heads of haughty husbands, or to make 

With strenuous milk the next-age manhood strong,— 

Maidens that heard unfeared the Dorian song. 

Mothers of might the battle could not break. 



21 



NORTH FLOWERS 

O Spartan bride ! — to me thou seemest so—' 
The loveliness of mountain-heights thou hast, 
As near to heaven, anchored to earth as fast, 
And yet suffused with such a tender glow 
As turns to fire their pinnacles of snow 
When rosy evening smiles her sweetest, last. 



22 



^IJtt'HEN God lets loose in eastern sky 
'^^^ The arrows of the dawn, 

Who now beholds the hand whereby 
The splendid bow is drawn ? — 

The lucent forehead crowned with curls 
Brighter than gold may be ; 

The mantle thrown in silver swirls 
Leaving the shoulder free ? 

One saw ; and left for us to mark, 

In every marble line, 
The light triumphant o'er the dark. 

The coming day divine. 



23 



NORTH FLOWERS 

See, on the god's indignant brow 
The wrath has all but died ; 

The hand that drew the string but now 
Is falling at his side : 

Soon all the passion stern and proud 

In that majestic mien 
Will vanish like a little cloud 

Into the sun serene. 

Sleep, sculptor, in your unknown grave, 

Your very name unknown ; 
The men of latest time will save 

This one immortal stone. 

And when all hearts exalt the lord 

Of light and liberty, 
All eyes will turn with one accord, 

Transcendent shape, to thee ! 



24 



/JP^THER madonnas ever seem to say, 

^-^ " My soul doth magnify the Lord " ; but she, 

Dove-like in sweetness and humility, 

Has caught the words of wonder day by day. 

And kept them in her heart. Look as we may. 

The mother is yet more a child than he 

Who nestles to her. In his eyes we see 

The prophecy of lightnings that will play 

About the temiple courts, the conqueror 

Travelling in the greatness of his strength, — 

But in her eyes only the love unsleeping 

Wherewith, all times, he will be waited for, 

Which, as the cross lets down its load at length, 

Will take her babe once more into her keeping. 



25 



®Ij^ Saturn to Nature 

On reading" William Mom's' poem. The Death of Paris. 

Ji MUSED the mournful story half way through 

^ How, in the lazy-leaguering time that wore 

Hard on Troy's end, one day was dire uproar 

Where Philoctetes' fatal arrow flew ; 

And how, next morn but one, the garden dew 

Was brushed by feet of silent shapes that bore 

The wound-sick man out of the palace door. 

Turning towards Ida and one vale he knew — 

But there I shut the book, nor any more 

Pondered of Paris, but of us, whose grief 

Is the world's arrow, dipt in venom sore : 

Like him, we make at last a visit brief 

To Her who loved us, and was loved, before, 

And pray, of the Implacable, relief. 



26 



©rtbutes 



MrnJifU ptlUpa 



11 EACH me, dread boughs, 



(K 



Where from your twigs the sad Muse culls her 
leaves. 
When she a long-neglected garland weaves 
To bind great brows. 

Give no leaf less 
Than his unlaureled temples should have worn : 
So may his spirit pass me not in scorn, 

But turn and bless. 

I fondly dream ! 
How could my crown, though rich with crust and stain 
From tears of sacred sorrow, win such gain — 

That smile supreme ? 

31 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Short-stemmed and curt 
His wreath should be, and braided by strong hands, 
Hindered with sword-hilt, while the braider stands 

With loin upgirt. 

Too late to urge 
Thy tardy crown. Draw back, O Northern blond ! 
Let black hands take to bind the Southern frond, 

A severed scourge ! 

Haughty and high, 
A nd deaf to all the thunders of the throng, 
He heard the lowest whisper of his wrong 

The slave could sigh. 

In some pent street, 
O prophet-slaying city of his care. 
Pour out thine eyes, loose thy repentant hair, 

And kiss his feet ! 



32 



TRIBUTES 

Little it is 
That thou canst pay, yet pay this recompense : 
All tongues henceforth shall give thine ears offence 

Remembering his ; 

All grace shall tease 
The flush of shame to thine averted cheek ; 
Best Greek shall mind thee of one greater Greek, 

More godlike ease — 

Blessing and blight, 
A bitter drop beneath the bee-kissed lips, 
Hyperion's anger passing to eclipse 

And arrow-flight ! 

Thou didst not spare : 
Thy foot is on his violated door ; 
Therefore the mantle that his shoulders wore 

None hence shall wear. 



33 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Above thy choice, 
This Coriolanus of the people's wars 
Could never strip his brawn and show his scars 

To beg thy voice. 

Struck by death's dart, 
(In all the strain of conflict unconfessed), 
He carried through the years that wounded breast, 

That poignant heart. 

Last from the fight. 
So moves the lion, with unhasting stride, 
Dragging the slant spear, broken in his side — 

And gains the height ! 



34 



E^itgram 



Suggested by the laudatory tablet erected by the City of 
Boston to mark the site of Wendell Phillips' forty-years' 
residence. 



» 



EADER, in this the City has done well. 
But if you think a prophet bold as he, 
And burdened with as bitter truth to tell, 
Would find her tamer now — try it and see. 



35 



E 



00 K on a Lawyer here, par excellence! 

If, in ycur judgment, that should mean that he 
Must needs be sinewy and adroit at fence, 

Bold in assault, sudden in repartee — 
So, in good truth, he was. But if you deem 

He must be likewise shrewd to over-reach — 
One man to be, another man to seem — 

So was he not. He matched his thought with 
speech. 
He came, at manhood, to the lists and threw 

His gauntlet down with modest courtesy. 
For two-score years, whatever trumpet blew. 

None took the gage up with impunity. 
Yet not in sword or shield he put his trust: 

He was thrice armed, having his quarrel just. 



36 



(g 



SII|0 f 0^t'0 (Sail 

{Referring to Whittle r.) 

OD spake in the still, small voices 

That breathed from the ancient wood ; 
And the message became a quenchless flame 
And burned in the young man's blood. 

" Are all my prophets buried ? 

Are all the harps unstrung ? 
Are all the bibles written ? 

Are all the pasans sung? 

" No more in the heart's deep silence 
Is the voice of my spirit heard? 

Never again shall the sons of men 
Behold the incarnate word ? 



37 



NORTH FLOWERS 

"What if my ancient altars 
Their sacred fires have lost? 

What race shall want its oracle — 
What age its pentecost ? 

" My holiest of Holies 

I make this woodland dim : 

What letteth here the mystic trance, 
The perfect prayer and hymn ? 

" Be thou mine own anointed,— 
My singer, priest and seer, 

A trumpet at the lips of God 
For all the host to hear. 

"Thy pen shall score another page 

Upon the sacred scroll, 
A purer David's psalm be sung. 

And the rent robe made whole. 



38 



TRIBUTES 
" Know me for The Unchanging. 

Go speak the word I gave. 
Think not my arm is shortened now 

So that it cannot save." 

And so the page was written, 
And so the psalm was sung ; 

And God hath spoken in our day 
As when the world was young. 
1887 



39 



% 



{Hung above a portrait of Whittier.) 

INGER whose going all men mourn, 

What shall our tribute be ? 
Only the winter pine-branch torn 

From the tumultuous tree ! 

We know what perfect flowers belong 

Where silent poets sleep ; 
The roses o'er thy bed shall throng, 

And the pure lilies sweep. 

But not the bard alone we frame 
Within this greenwood cheer : 

We crown the prophet without shame, 
The fighter without fear. 

40 



TRIBUTES 

This waif from winter's wildest hill 
Deserves a smile from thee : 

It holds the scent of summer still ; 
It whispers of the sea. 

Some likeness of thy youthful day 
Was in its stormy strife ; 

Something its verdure seems to say 
Of an unfading life ! 

Wherever now in airs of heaven 
The fronded palms are blown, 

Dost thou not hear, more faintly given, 
The song our pines intone ? 
1892 



41 



JjjE cried to every passing hour to stay, 

^^ Lend him strong hands and break the tyrant's 

rods. 
The heedless hours went by, but far away 

The slumbering years woke like avenging gods. 



42 



^tVihitB 



ATHENS reclined, but Sparta sat. 
To take the cup. 
Deliberating, Athens sat ; 
Sparta stood up. 

In speaking, Athens made a show 

Of word and wit. 
Spartan debate was Yes and No. 

That settled it. 

Athens, when all is vainly fought, 

Flies from the field. 
Sparta brings home, or else is brought 

Upon, the shield. 

47 



NORTH FLOWERS 

The Attic pen was wielded well ; 

The world has read. 
What Lacedaemon had to tell, 

Her right arm said. 

Something the Spartan missed, but gained 

The power reserved 
That lets the crown pass unobtained, 

Not undeserved. 



48 



/|P|NE, in the gloom of pagan thought, 
^^ Looked forth unfooled on every side ; 
Would not profess a faith in aught 
His brave and sober sense denied. 

The other, in a light that shines 

Heaven-wide, was darl^ness ' devotee 

Believed, or feigned belief, in signs ; 
Mistook himself for destiny. 

One, having saved the commonweal 
And cleared a path secure and wise. 

Died calmly on the traitor's steel, 
His country's costliest sacrifce. 



49 



NORTH FLOWERS 

The other, having wasted France 
And won and lost a line of thrones, 

Fell like a child, accusing chance, 

And marked his dying years with moans. 

One thing, deluded Corsican, 

Is greater than to trust a star : 
It is, to quit you like a man. 

And hold yourself for what you are. 

Roman, couldst thou impart to me 

Thy gifts, would I not sue thee long? — 

To be like Cassar, fearless, free. 

Serene and sane and sure and strong ! 



50 



(HantvuBtB in (Etrntt 

y|| HIS advocate, in confidence so weak 
^^ He scarce can muster breath enough to speak, 
And gets each sentence by a painful wrench, 
Wears in his hat more wit than half the Bench. 

This other, self-assertive, shallow, loud, 
Would still harangue his judges like a crowd. 
Though Cicero himself were seated there 
In full-robed splendor in his ivory chair. 



57 



Htm i^ahutl iemoBtljrnrsi 

^fHEY say you had great vim. We cannot doubt it. 

^^ Who could say such heroic things without it? 
There was that other story — pardon me — a— 
But did you show your heels at Cheronasa ? 



52 



Paolo anb 3fmmtBm 



/TTHESE hearts, two torches that together came 
^^ In God's sure hand, burst into single flame. 
Which will you chide— the brands to ashes turned, 
Or the great Hand that held them as they burned? 



53 



Mtjsixbt tl|? mark 



'Jd[jHO cares how well the bow is strung, 
'^^^ How finely wrought in every part, 
If, when the silver cord has rung. 

The arrow has not reached the heart > 



54 



PaatttttF 



/TT HEY say he was a jolly man, 
^^ This grandsir' whom I never saw. 
When all my aims flash in the pan, 

When days are dark and airs are raw, 
A joke bursts somewhere in my brain. 
And I can laugh and sing again. 
I say, "perhaps this merry whim 
Is my inheritance from him." 
But then, what legacy began 

To yield the income I can draw ? 
I'm glad he was a jolly man. 

This grandsir' whom I never saw. 



59 



"Wl 



A J^rttttnn for (Suaritau 

(A Scene in the Probate Court.) 

pray for a guardian over your son. 
is name is — ah — Joseph ? Is this man the 
one? " 



" No, Jedge ; that is William, the one that should be 
Guardeen to his brother. Here's Joseph, by me." 

"Well, hold up your hand . . . Now what is the 

ground > 
Is the young man a spendthrift? Non compos? 
Unsound? " 

" Well, Jedge, he's peculiar. Was always jes so 
Sence he was a leetle one, larnin' to go. 



60 



PASTIME 

Can't call him a fool, for he knows a big heap ; 

But it ain't any value to sell or to keep. 

It's all about ' beaut}^ ' and ' love ' and ' devotion ' 

And glories of airth and the stars and the ocean. 

He thinks he hears voices that hold him from sleepin' ; 

And sperrits are round him and he's in their keepin'. 

He's chipper by spells ; but he's full of his moods. 

He'll hang his head down and not speak fer an hour. 
I've sent him on arrants, in spring, through the woods, 

And he'd get on his knees to every flower. 
Nor yet he ain't lazy: he never would shirk. 
When any's in trouble, my sakes ! how he'll work ! 
But he'll work jest as quick for a man 'at can't pay 
As if he was gettin' his dollar a day. 
Nor he ain't jest a spendthrift. But what can ye call it ? 
He'll be ragged and give the last cent in his wallet. 

" He stood t'other day with a coin in his hand. 

'Whose money's this ' ere ? ' says he, turnin' to me. 



61 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Says I, ' It's the dollar ye airnt on the land. 

Ain't it yourn if ye airnt it? ' '1 airnt it,' said he, 
' But the dollar ain't mine. If 1 keep it it's curst : 
It belongs to the fellow that needs it the worst — 
And I'm goin' to find him.' And so he put off. 
'Twant never no use to laugh or to scoff. 
I'm old, and I'll shortly be laid on the shelf, 
And Joseph ain't fit to look out for himself. 

But William is diff'nt,— takes after his dad. 

Bill's got the fust penny that ever he had ! 

He always took boot when he swapped with the boys, 

Till he scooped all their jack-knives and trinkets and 

toys. 
He's smarter'n a trap, if 1 say it as oughtn't, 
And the hook can't be baited so Bill can be caught 

on't. 
And I've often told Joseph, if he'd be like Bill, 
I'd do by 'em both jest alike in my will. 
But I've gi'n it all up ; and its plain to be seen, 
Joe'll never be nothin', 'less Bill is guardeen." 

62 



PASTIME 

The Judge sat awhile, with a far-away look, 

Then took up his docket and wrote in the book. 

"I've found this question unusually hard. 

It is, which should be guardian, which should be ward. 

I shall give the appointment to William," said he, 

"But, the chances are. Heaven will reverse the decree." 



63 



^fHE lawyer, intent at his table, 
^^ Held Chitty apart by a leaf, 

While his quill ran creaking and straining 

Down the driest page of his brief. 
A footfall — the rickety stairway 

Groaning each step like sin — 
A silence of hesitation — 
And his visitor ventured in. 

" I've bargained my woodland, lawyer, 
And want the deed made out ; 

I fetched the old one with me, 
To give the bounds about." 

The squire took up the paper 
And read, in hurried tones, 



64 



PASTIME 

" Beginning, for a corner, 

At a stake in a pile of stones, 
Thence northward (rods so many). 

Thence east (so many more), 
Thence south to a brook called Miller's, 

And back along the shore " — 
Then he rose and went to the window. 

Rubbing his glasses hard, 
And stared at the mating robins 

In the elms across the yard. 

" Yes, yes ! I know this woodland, — 

It's many and many a year, — 
Perambulated it, in fact. 

(This deed, though, isn't clear. ) 
1 saw it last in the summer 

Before I was twenty-one ; 
But I can tell today, sir. 

How the boundaries ought to run : 



65 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Beginning in the shadow 

Of a low-boughed maple-tree, 
Thence winding up a thicket 

As far as you can see ; 
Turn at the leaning bar-way, 

Follow a lane of flowers 
To a corner kept by squirrels, 

Where the sun sleeps hours and hours 
Then take the mossy foot-path 

Adown the alder dale. 
Hung over by the birches, 

Crossed by the rabbit's trail, — 
Beside the brook that lingers 

Along a dusky glen 
With here and there a whisper, 

And a trout-leap now and then, — 
As far as two may wander 

In the twilight, heart in heart,^ 
And back to the bound begun at 

For a place to kiss and part." 



66 



PASTIME 

He stood and watched the robins, 

And one particular pair 
That seemed to be having a quarrel 

In the elm-tree over there. 
But the farmer had gone ; and his neighbors 

That took the farmer's say 
Debated the squire's insanity 

For a twelve-month and a day. 



67 



TgfHE farmer, leaning beside his fence, 
^^ Believed my book a rogue's pretence. 

I did not read the briefest word ; 

Yet all its rhymes in the brook I heard. 

I lay an hour by the southern wall 
And watched the sun-bright apples fall ; 
I rifled his meadows, green and gold, 
Of more than his bulky barns would hold ; 

And I met him again in the lane at night ; 
But my hands were empty, my pockets light, 
And how could he see in the dusk of day 
That I bore the best of his farm away? 



68 



®I|r f 0mt of Ut^te 



"A common scold, communis matrix, (for the law-latin 
confines it to the feminine gender), is a public nuisance to 
her neighborhood, for which offence she may be indicted." 
Blackstone's Commentaries, vol, iv, p. 168. 

^TlS only woman, we are told, 
^^ Can be in law a common scold. 
My! won't the definitions vary 
When woman makes the dictionary ! 



69 



9 



iJl0tt0 for an Atl|bttr flllub 

{The Odyssey, VllI, 14 7-8.) 

N all his life no praises more sweet 

A mortal commands 
Than those that he wins by the speed of his feet, 
By the might of his hands. 



70 



Maahs 



ICabtJ 0f Sr^antfi 



/TtjlY Lady goes to the dance to-night ; 

^*^ Her feet glide free and her eyes glance bright, 

But her heart, says she. 

Is away with me. 
Where I dream and dream in the dim firelight ; 

For she swears she is mine 

While the true stars shine. 

And I call her My Lady of Dreams divine. 

So while some fellow of excellent taste 
Is whirling her round and round by the waist, 
I am holding her white, ethereal hand, 
(All quite by myself, as you understand,) 
And trying m.y hardest to make it appear 
The girl he is whirling is really here. 



75 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Where we dream and dream in the crimson glow, 
And music breathes from the books we know, 

And she swears she is mine 

While the true stars shine, 

And I call her My Lady of Dreams divine,. 



76 



® 



'O what sum total has my Hfe amounted, 
If I should die to-night ? 
Erase for once all that conceit has counted, 
And set the column right : 

A few free words in hated causes uttered 

That earned me hisses hot ; 
One fervid speech, whereat the crowd first muttered, 

Then cheered — and then forgot ; 

A song or two some friend, — perhaps some stranger, — 

Heard as he hurried by ; 
And three safe flowers plucked from life's nettle 
danger, — 

Three hearts that v/ould not lie. 



77 



NORTH FLOWERS 

There. If death came, with hand remorseless, rigid, 

To cast my sum to-night. 
He could not take away the poorest digit. 

The meagre score is right. 



78 



(§n (f uttttng a Snnm 

j|l CANNOT leave thee, little room, unblessed; 

^ Though here I brought the latest and the worst 

Of life's deep wounds. Here I have watched the first 

Great star of night proceeding slowly west ; 

Here I have lain and let the moonlight rest 

Upon my dreaming face, yet waked uncursed; 

Here I have broken fast and slaken thirst, 

And thou has been the host and I the guest. 

And so I quit thee not ungratefully. 

Oh when I leave this narrower room some day 

Wherein my soul finds hospitality, 

A place to love and suffer, dream and pray — 

Tasting the bitter herbs of memory. 

Shall I give thanks before I turn away? 



79 



1 



RING not from fame's unconquered realm 

The laurel or the ivy leaf ; 
But twine the maple with the elm, 

Fit for a modest grief ; 
And these will make a garland dear 
To him who knew and loved them here. 

Strew not the lily nor the rose : 

One is too pure, and one too proud. 

If on his bed the daisy grows, 
He'll know her in his shroud. 

Her face was sweetest to his eyes 

Of all that smiled beneath the skies 



80 



MOODS 

And if you wish to give him praise 
Such as would please him if he heard, 

Bring back from all his busy days 
One kindly deed or word. 

Of all he wrought with hand or brow 

Tis only such he prizes now. 



81 



jSfcEE, my love is lying dead, 
"^ Dead and buried in the snow. 
They have prankt her pretty head 
With the flowers of long ago, 

Long ago ! 
Sweet, how can you slumber so. 
And the wedding word unsaid? 

Youth himself is dead and gone. 
Dead and buried in the snow 

Where you sleep, my dainty one. 
With his blossoms lying lov/. 

Lying low ! 
While I v/ake and weep you so, 

Sweet, how can you slumber on? 



82 



Ol0Utttrg 



A 



0I|^ ISp^iubltr 

{Chicago, 1892-3.) 

There is a mystery .... in the soul of state, 
Which hath an operation more divine 
Than breath or pen can give expressure to." 

[Troilus and Cressida, Act III, Scene J.] 

GAINST the gray horizon-rim 
Her figure looms, august and dim. 

And strong winds blow the mist of lakes 
From off colossal brow and limb. 

Around her chair, before her feet. 
The multitudinous nations meet ; 

The ocean of their voices breaks 
In many-murmuring music sweet 

87 



NORTH FLOWERS 

As when, upon his column's throne, 
The sculptured victor sits alone. 

Nor sees his never-ending train, 
The circling triumph, climb the stone,— 

She sits, nor sees the endless train 
Whose thronging triumph fills the plain, 

Nor how the lost Hellenic wand 
Is waved about her seat again. 

Till lake and marsh, lagoon and isle. 
Smitten, with sudden beauty smile. 

And long-forgotten glories stand 
In tower and dome and peristyle. 

She sees her primal rivers pour ; 
She sees her waving forests hoar, 

And round her unascended peaks 
Her warring eagles swoop and soar. 



88 



COUNTRY 

Unmoved she sits, with solemn chin 
Upon her breast, and broods within, 
Tasting the salt of ancient tears, 
The bitterness of what has been. 

Her hands are clasped across her knees, 
Around her rise the hymns of peace ; 

She hears them not — upon her ears 
The storms of battle swell and cease. 

The saviors of her doubtful day 
Are with her in her dreams, and they 
That lacked the sinews, not the will, 
To wrench her scepter-staff away. 

( Slowly her strength the Titan learns, 
Dimly her dawning fate discerns ; 

She was conceived in strife, and still 
The birth-mark on her forehead burns .) 



89 



NORTH FLOWERS 

How few the living ranks appear 

To her, with whom the dead are near, — 

As if, across her miles of corn, 
She dropt the kernels of an ear. 

She hears the spirit bugles peal ; 
Her buried armies rise and wheel, 

Marshalled by men with lion look 
And lips that close like steel with steel. 

And who are these like millions more ? 
They burst the era's bounteous door ; 

They led the lakes into the sea ; 
They bowed the mountain to the shore. 

And sailors brown salute her now. 

And stubborn hands that steered the plow. 

And judges, sure and leveled-eyed. 
And sober statesmen, broad of brow, 



90 



COUNTRY 

And prophets at whose wakening word 
The sluggard age's venom stirred, 

(They move serene and valiant still, 
Nor even now their loins ungird,) 

And that dark race whose wrongs suffice 
To weigh its freedom's peerless price, — 

A people lifted out of chains 
With might of mingled sacrifice. 

And some who made their mortal beds 
Where Fame her flower unfading sheds, 

And many, nameless now, that bear 
Like heroes their unlaureled heads, 

And scholars, lone amid the throng, 
And — crowned with lilies, borne along 

On the triumphal tide of souls— 
The pure and lowly lords of song, 



91 



NORTH FLOWERS 

By whom the holy Muses wrought 
Their unresisted will, and taught 

Her night of tears and starless gloona 
The brightness that her dawn has brought. 

All hail her, as in days that were, 
And feel the patriot pulses stir, 

And long to leave their heaven again, 
Again to live and die for her. 

She hears the proud empyrean tone 
Blent with the prairie's, upward thrown,— 

Her nation's shout, a trumpet blast 
In long reverberate thunders blown. 

She hears and smiles in slow surprise ; 
Her limbs to awful stature rise ; 

The sunlight trembles in her hair. 
And all the future fills her eyes. 



92 



COUNTRY 

Maiden, in whom our iiearts believe, 
With whom we hope, or faint, or grieve. 

Oh, tell us what those radiant, rapt 
And far-off gazing eyes perceive ! 

She sees the last war-flag unfurled. 
Fear and oppression hellward hurled, 

The smiling ages, hand in hand, 
That wait to bring the better world, — 

One law, one love, one liberty. 
One light that beams from sea to sea. 
From morning land to evening land. 
The splendor of the time to be ! 



93 



3xxmh^ 



\ 



3?famtng tli^ ®ab^ 



(H 



OME, name the child, my Dear. What's in a 
name? 



Yet we are moulding now the speech of men ; 

For, oh, how many, many thousand times 

This name will be pronounced in days to come ! — 

With tender iterations of the home. 

With every fond addition and sweet change 

That love delights in,— crooned in cradle song. 

Then shouted on the green by boys at play. 

Then murmured softly, under moon and stars. 

By lips that make it music, — then, ah me ! 

Bandied about the rude ways of the town, 

In praise and blame, from kindliness to scorn. 



97 



NORTH FLOWERS 

And blown, perhaps, world-wide for ill or good, — 
Spoken at last, one day, v/ith awed, hushed breath, 
Then treasured in a few fond, faithful hearts, 
Read a few years upon a low, white stone, 
And then forever, evermore forgot ! 

So name the child, my Dear. What's in a name ? 



98 



^ 



Hullahg 

LEEP, my baby, all the night ! 

Star and star for candle-light 
Shining softly all about. 
Not a breeze to blow them out. 
Not a saucy cloud but soon 
Sails from off the placid moon. 
Moon and star the watch will keep 

Go to sleep ! 

Go to sleep ! 

Go to sleep, my baby dear : 

Never fear ! 

If the wind blow out the light, — 

LofC.^ 

99 



NORTH FLOWERS 

If the moon go out of sight, 
All the hours of dark and dew 
Will the mother watch by you. 
Mother still her babe will keep 

Go to sleep ! 

Go to sleep ! 



100 



% 



i£t (tavern (jput Sit 

AS life to this my little boy, 

An underflow of hidden joy? 
Often, the house in silence deep, 
I hear him laughing in his sleep. 
'Tis such a happy, gurgling sound !- 
As if the river of his dream 
Had overleaped some silver bound 
That broke the tenor of its stream, 
Had sparkled in the sun, and then 
Glided away in shade again. 



101 



FIRESIDE 

Laugh on, unheeding, not unheard, 
Like some unseen, untroubled bird 
That sings his song and never knows 
What hearts are Hghtened as it flows. 

Thank God for laughter ! Later years 
That thank Him for the gift of tears 
Shall hold the boons of equal worth, 
And bless Him for the gift of mirth. 



102 



Snb^rt ^tnrlatr ^taffori 

{September 20, 1894— May 24, 1901.) 

WJ'E shall not miss thee less but more, 

^^^ For ever more, O silent little son, 

As our dull days go on, 

Each finding hope's predicted deeds undone, 

Losing some field of joy thy presence would have won, 

We shall not lose our memory's blessed store. 
We see thee as before, — 

Nothing inert, 

The bright blue eyes alert. 



103 



NORTH FLOWERS 

And light feet on the poise to skip and run, 

The thin lips curling into fairy fun, 

And brow whose promise large was read of every one. 

Oh paradox of misery ! 
For sudden sorrow smiled, 
Seeing thou didst but pause 

To be for aging hearts the sweet, immortal child. / 
Not thee, dear little lad, we lost not thee ; 
But we have lost the man that never was 
And never was to be. 



104 



Qlirlum nnn Animum iHutmtt 

TiTROM sky to sky they pass with soul unchanged. 

^^ My love would find them in the furthest star. 

I feel their love for me, however far, 

In unimagined fields, their feet have ranged. 

Spirit from spirit cannot be estranged, 

And hearts will touch if all the worlds would bar. 

Blessed be God ! who made us as we are. 

To pass from heaven to heaven with love unchanged. 

Two souls, to me and to each other dear, 

My father and my child, before me stand. 

From happy places coming, hand in hand. 

It is not memory makes the sight so clear ; 

It is not hope that brings them smiling near ; 

It is love's answer unto love's demand. 



J 05 



^TRUE little mother with eyes sedate, 
^^ Dear little gray-wing bird, 

Whose heart was never from nest or mate 

By the tiniest tremor stirred. 
While I was singing how still you sate ! 
Oh quiet one, have you heard? 



106 



i^bctuin 



He shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.' 

ECAUSE I have dared to be true 

To the voice of the God that within me 

Said, "Thou art my son ; thou shalt do 
My will ; by thy life I will win me 

Thy brothers, my sons, to be true : " 

Because I have dared to endure 
Bitter hate, and the bitterer chiding 

Of love, — few following, fewer 
Believing the word and abiding : 

Because I have kept the truth pure : 



;;; 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Because I have bowed to forego 
The power and the passion of living, 

That the Hfe of The Father might so 
Be revealed, not receiving but giving, — 

To love being more than to know : 

Once let me be given to see 

And be glad of my travail of spirit, — 
Of the hope that was hidden in Thee, 

The hope that the ages inherit, 
That the world should love God, loving me. 



I have seen. I am ready to die. 

I have founded Thy kingdom unending. 

I have borne the world's curse and its cry. 

Thy peace like a dove is descending. 
Now 1 pray not the cup should pass by. 



112 



(§ 



DOUBTING heart, if God is love, 
Ttie resurrection morn is sure. 
death, if God is less than love, 
Make thou the sepulcher secure. 



ijj 



/|^ FRIEND, the sun your light may be 
^^ And mine the glow-worm's spark ; 
Yet must I follow where I see 

The light amid the darl<:. 
And surely He that gave to me 
This lantern strange and dim 
Can show the way by night or day 
That leadeth unto Him. 



114 



1' 



Mtl}ixlh tl|? Bag 

(January J, 1 901.) 

EH OLD the day The Lord sends down, — his 
dearest, 

Most beautiful of all about his throne. 
With azure eyes the sweetest and severest, 
Far-flaming sword and silver wings far-flown ! 
His naked foot is on the mountain nearest, 
His golden trumpet to his lips upthrown ; 
And for thine ears, O world, if thou but hearest, 
The summons of the century is blown : 
" The word of truth, that shake th all foundations, 
The word of love, that maketh all its own. 
The word of beauty, crown of all creations — 
These shalt thou hear and heed, and these alone. 
Love, Truth and Beauty — for all tribes and nations 
Be these the names whereby our God is known ! " 

113 



lUnto nnh ireams 



Ji TOOK my morning harp, well tuned, and went 
^-^ By budding forest and white ocean-side,— 
Wherever pleasure laughed or labor plied 
His heavy task,— touching my instrument 
To every lyric which the god had sent ; 
But not one singer to my song replied ; 
At never-open doors the music died ; 
No weary back from its low toil unbent. 
So at high noon 1 sat, and let song thrill 
My heart in silence, where men hurried by. 
Then one swift figure of the throng stood still. 
And with imperious tone said, " Sing." And 1 
On trembling knees made answer : " Love, I will ; 
But take thy sweet eyes from me, lest I die.'' 



119 



ICnh? Sliirtral 



^ 



OMEWHERE she waits my coming 
Somewhere the wind out blows 

Her raiment Hke a river ; 
Somie over-happy rose 

Dies in her maiden bosom ; 
Some bed her beauty knows. 

And I, against that morning 
When I shall find her fair, 

Upon her mouth the springtime, 
The summer in her hair, 

And in her eyes a midnight 

When all the stars are there, — 



120 



LOVE AND DREAMS 

Against that wondrous morning, 
My sorrow's crown or cure, 

I store my soul with music 
To make my wooing sure, 

And sue the holy angels 

To keep me strong and pure. 

And when at last I find her 
Upon her virgin throne, 

I know her lips will answer 
With words we know alone,— 

Will welcome and salute me. 
If all the world disown. 



121 



NORTH FLOWERS 



^IJJINTER still his load is bearing, 
'^^ Lady mine. 

Of the springtime hither faring, 
Bud and blade and blossom wearing, 
Of the red-breast lovers pairing, 

Not a sign. 
But your coming is a guerdon 

Richer-fine ; 
And my heart has cast its burden, 

Lady mine ! 

Lady mine ! 

Not a love earth-born and mortal, 

Lady mine. 
Makes my pulse at every portal 

Leap, like wine ; 
'Tis a spirit bond that never 



122 



LOVE AND DREAMS 

Years or seas or stars may sever, 

All divine, — 
Love that maketh one forever, 

Lady mine ! 

Lady mine ! 



123 



NORTH FLOV/ERS 



III. 



/|P^H blessed bough I may not see, 
^-^ Though evermore the April blow, 
To-day my Love will come to thee 

To dream the dreams of long ago — 
Tell her what dreams of her must be, 
Piercing as perfume, pure as snow ! 

If Robin come to rival me 

And waste his heart in one wild throe, 
Tell her that far away from thee, 

Unseen, unheard, 1 sing her so. 

If mists from off the mournful sea 
About thy branches wavering flow, 

Turn them to tears, oh happy tree ! 
Ah, tell my Love, 1 miss her so ! 

Just touch her forehead, trembling low, 
Tell her for me, I kiss her so ! 



124 



LOVE AND DREAMS 
IV. 

^* WJ^^'^ were you doing, my flower," said the 

^^^ bee, 

" All the long days you were waiting for me ? " 

" Sucking the sweet of the ground, my lover, — 
Hoarding a heartful of honey for thee ; 

Shutting my lips to all kisses, my rover, 
To open heart-deep, should you brush them once 
over. 
That is the way I was waiting for thee." 



125 



NORTH FLOWERS 



V. 



♦ ^ ^^flS because you're sweet, I love you ! " 
^^ " Tisyour love that makes me sweet! 
So the robins, Dear, above you. 
Wrangle in their green retreat. 

They will solve the problem, maybe : 

I am humbler, at your feet. 
Tis enough for me, my Lady, 

Just to sense that you are sweet. 



126 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



VI. 



'JjJOBOLINK, bobolink, teach me the tune 

■^ You are singing your Love in the heart of the 

June ! 
Tis the very same music I'd make to my own, — 

That song you are flinging, 

Twixt winging and clinging, 

Ere scythes are set swinging 
And younglings are grown. 

" Why this is the way : When your throat would 

o'erflow. 
You just let it go ! you just let it go ! 
There, there ! you have heard it ! The secret's your 
own. 
'Tis as easy as flying— 
As easy as trying — 
As easy as sighing 
When summer is flov/n ! " 



127 



NORTH FLOWERS 



VII. 



^JF my Love knew how I love her, 

^-^ Would her love for me 

More capricious prove, or constant,— 

More reserved or free ? 
Could she see hov/ fond my heart is, 

Would her own be true ? 
Would her pity scorn or crown me 

If she really knew ? 

Often as I try to tell her 

All the wondrous tale, — 
Just as oft the words will falter, 

And the music fail. 
Ah ! perhaps 'tis well I cannot 

Tell the story through— 
Yet I'd give my hope of heaven 

If she only knew ! 



128 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



VIII. 



'JHACK again ! back again ! Look, I have come ! 
^^ My music to yours is like fiddle to drum. 
Why, don't you remember that morning in June 

I met you, you rover, 

'Way down in the clover. 

And over and over 
I taught you the tune ? ' ' 

Ah yes ! I remember the heart of the June, 
The brook and the meadow, the sky and the tune. 
But have you forgotten ? — or hadn't you heard ?— 

For sweetheart and rover, 

In cottage and clover. 

That summer is over 
Forever, my bird ! 



129 



NORTH FLOWERS 



IX. 



i 



I love you, little Lady ? 

Ah! there's nothing else I do, 
All the bright and busy daytime, 

All the starry silence too. 
Things I do and dream and suffer 

Just express my iove for you. 

Darling, it will be so ever, 

When my day and dream are through, 
If you search the tall grave-grasses 

And find there a blossom too, 
You may know my dust has made it 

To express my love for you. 



130 



¥ 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



URITAN or Cavalier, 

Which was finer, Lady dear? 
Which had won from you, my Lady, 
Pensive smile and happy tear ? 

In your voice the lyrics flow ; 
In your veins the roses blow ; 

Sun and singing, love and laughter, 
Follow, ever, where you go. 

Yet your heart is ever sure ; 
And your eyes are pure as pure ; 

And a world above our vision 
Bends to bless you, and allure. 

All the Courtier's lilt and light, 

All the Roundhead's truth and might, 

Must have miet in him, my Lady, 
Who had sung your praise aright. 



131 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Now no saint or chevalier, 
Puritan or poet, Dear, 

But an acolyte at altar. 
Kneels, and kneels forever, here. 



132 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



XI. 



'3JF' God had made me a painter, 

^-^ I had filled the earth with your face 

If God had made me a poet, 

I had sung you in every place ; 
If God had made me a monarch, 

I had throned you, the world above ; 
But he only made me a lover, my Lady, 

And so I could only love. 

But oh, how he gave me to love you, 

'Tis only himself can know ! — 
Love pure as the light of the morning. 

And rich as the afterglow. 
And haughty as noon, trium.phant, 

O'er-flooding the earth and sky,— 
And star after star through the night afar, 

Shall my love be when I die. 



133 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Oh, sweet as her kiss to the sailor 

When he leaves his bride of a day, 
And brave as the harbor breezes 

That speed him along his way, 
And fierce as the tempest that lashes 

The terrible strength of the sea, 
And sad as the wail for a vanished sail. 

Is the love that I bear to thee ! 



134 



LOVE AND DREAMS 
XII. 



3 



do not sing 
Because the spring 
Makes mad with music everything 
I sing to let my Lady know 
I love her so ! 
1 love her so ! 

I do not sing 

To see her fling 
The door of summer wide a-swing : 
I sing to let my Lady know 

I love her so ! 

I love her so ! 

I cease to sing 

Because the wing 
Of winter waits for wandering : 
I hush — to let my Lady know 

I love her so ! 

I love her so ! 

135 



s: 



NORTH FLOWERS 

XIII. 
O, I am loved ! The old faith is come back to 



me, 

Bright as the morning to eyes that are young, 

Tender as tears of the time that must lack for thee, 

Fledged with the fire of the songs I have sung. 

Hov/ 1 shall call thee in days that are coming, — 
Call thee and keep thee as never before — 

Swift to my heart as the swallow a-homing, 

Bound for my breast as the wave for the shore ! 

Now 1 can sing to thee, crown of my sorrow, — 
Cradle and croon thee, acoushia macree ! 

All of my heart is the hope of our morrow : 
All of my life is believing in thee. 



136 



LOVE AMD DREAMS 



XIV. 



y jnjEARER, Lady, and diviner, 
''^ Year by year, you grow, — 
Richer, truer, fairer, finer, 

Sweeter, ever so. 
Not a shade of change or warning 

Shall love's mirror show 
Till the gracious, golden morning 

Cease for thee to glow. 

Love is all the light that lingers, 

All the sun that warms, 
All the cunning of the fingers, 

All the might of arms, 
All that smiles in angel faces, 

All in hell that harms, 
All the muses, all the graces. 

All that cheers or charms. 



137 



NORTH FLOWERS 

Oh, my Lady, love for ever ! 

Music never dies 
On Love's lips: the lightnings never 

Darken in his eyes. 
Trust him in his strangest story ; 

Wait his last surprise — 
Earth flung by, a faded glory, 

See his stars arise ! 



138 



LOVE AND DREAMS 



XV. 



(§ 



LD sweethearts are the sweetest, 

As all true lovers know. 
Old comforts are completest, 

In sun or shade or snow. 

Say, Sweetheart, is it so? 
In gray and golden weather 
We two go on together. 
Old sweethearts are the sweetest, 

As all true lovers know. 

Old sweethearts are the sweetest, 
As all true lovers know. 

Young lover, as thou greetest 
Thy sweetheart, tell her so ! 

Ah, tell her, tell her so! 

Time ties a golden tether 

As we go on together. 

Old sweethearts are the sweetest, 
As all true lovers know. 

139 



NORTH FLOWERS 



XVI. 



JjpOVE'S song should be as transient as his tear, 
'^^ Born on the lip and dying in the ear. 
So mine be born — so let it die, my Dear, — 
From me to thee. 

Love's lyric is too light to be enscroUed, 
Too fairy fine for aught of earth to hold. 
Why should it tarry when its tale is told 
From me to thee ? 



£0h^ Olnnfib^nt 

;0W can I know she will be true to me 

When I am strictly banished from Love's 
court? 
I have put every influence in fee 
That is of gentle birth and good report. 
There's not a lily but will plead my cause ; 
And every rose has my success at heart. 
All poets urge my suit ; all music draws 
Her pensive soul aside and takes my part. 
I am in league with children at their play ; 
I subsidize the sunset and the dew; 
The very stars have promised me to say, 
" Look on us, blessed Lady— we are true." 
And when false hopes and fears surround her quite, 
Truth will draw sword for me and put the horde to 
flight. 



iSuOME day, somev/here, because thou hast 

^^ believed, 

I shall be all that thou hast called me here. 

The autumn of the universal year 

Will find my sterile plowlands fullest-sheaved. 

I shall return with every loss retrieved 

And spoils to brighten the celestial sphere, 

To thee, thy lover, singer, hero, seer, 

O Lady mine, because thou hast believed. 

The miracles of faith will never fail, 

And love will have his will, whate'er befall ; 

So, unashamed, I take thy sweet all-hail. 

Possessing nothing, yet assured of all ; 

As the knight listened while he donned his mail, 

Hearing his pasan in the trumpet's call. 



142 



Uoh? Stomal 

^OW do I love thee, Dear? I do not knov. 

He only knows v/ho made my heart and thine. 
I look upon the ocean's roll and shine, 
But see not where his vast tides ebb and flow. 
By night I hear the great winds come and go, 
Disclosing not their errands. Sign by sign 
The zodiac beacons over gulfs divine, 
Deeper than all its radiant lamips can show. 
Our love is like the wind, the sky, the sea, — 
Dowered with a majesty beyond our guess. 
Breathing traditions of eternity, 
Haunted with prophecies of endlessness. 
Like His creation, it has come to be 
Because in the beginning God said. Yes. 



143 














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